At 10 o’clock this morning I was stood in a queue waiting for my latest, I’ve lost count of how many, Covid booster. Nervous pleasantries were passed with the vaccinator nurse. I was thankfully not as old as most of the other customers. Never felt a thing. So back out into the Lidl car park on a beautiful sunny morning, no time for shopping, Soon I was home for a delayed breakfast. Despite warnings of possible side effects, take paracetamol and rest, let’s get out and enjoy the Spring weather.
At the back of my mind was a short walk from Sizergh Castle highlighted recently by fellow blogger John Bainbridge and others. Native daffodils in the woods aroused my curiosity. Noon found me parked in the grounds of Sizergh Castle, along with many more. My NT card saved me £9 in parking fees. Not for me the delights of the garden or castle, I strode purposefully upwards. The National Trust here have been at work creating a serviceable path to Holeslack Farm, under scaffolding but with its original orchard attached. Not many followed me. Wild garlic in profusion.
A quiet lane took me up to the church of St. John the Evangelist. Thankfully it was open, and I was able to get a good view of the stained-glass windows and the painted mural, a memorial to the lost from the WW1. 
Outside there was a view over the Kent Estuary with Arnside Knott on one side and Whitbarrow the other. The main event however, the Lakeland Hills, was a hazy distant blur though the plaques showed me what should be seen on a clear day. Worth returning for.
Out onto Scout Scar all was blue sky, the limestone ridge dotted with low growing trees. One can wander at will up here, but I stuck to a path along the edge of the escarpment watching the line of cliffs unfold with the Lyth Valley down below. I didn’t know the path dropping off this western side, but the map indicated a cairn. The cairn appeared and what a fine one. The track off was clear, but first I sat on the edge for a break whilst I had the views, though the far hills still hazy. I ate the last of my Xmas cake and topped up on water, a buzzard flew majestically below me. 
The way down was steep and stony through the trees. All of a sudden you are into pastures full of sheep belonging to Barrowfield a wonderfully situated homestead. The farmer was sorting out his lambs, an age-old routine not changed for generations. 
Back into woods a narrow path threaded its way down the valley. New growth was appearing on the trees, the young beech leaves the brightest green. Continuing on a lane I bypassed Brigsteer and stayed high to the remote cottages at Well Garth. Then down through fields to Park End a picturesque C17 farm. 
A couple of fields, and I was into Brigsteer Woods. I just followed whichever path seemed to be in the right direction. These woods were traditionally coppiced, so light gets through to the forest floor. Everywhere were woodland flowers – primrose, cowslip, celandine, dog violet, dandelion, bluebell, wood anemone, wood sorrel, wild strawberries the list goes on. But I was too late for the native daffodils, they were well past their best. 
Native daffodils?
Out of the woods there was a short stretch through what had been an ancient deer park presumably connected with the castle estate. Back at the Castle the café was doing a roaring trade in ice creams, I was surprised by the number of children about – some must have longer holidays than others. I couldn’t resist a wander around the grounds and gardens before leaving. 
A varied area worth more exploration. I should visit Brigsteer village and maybe have a look at the bird hide on the edge of the mosses. Even a trip around the castle.
***
As I approached the west end of Morecambe I was intrigued by a large building set back from the front. The building now known as The Battery once marked the boundary between Morecambe and Heysham. (in 1928 the two districts merged). In the nineteenth century the site was occupied by an old mill and the area was later used as a firing range, with an artillery battery stationed there because of fear of an invasion by the French. The mill, then known as The Roundhouse, was used for storing ammunition. The Battery Inn was built in 1863 and in 1900 it expanded to become The Battery Hotel, later acquired by Thwaites Brewery and functioned into the 1980s. It has recently been bought by a property developer for conversion into luxury flats. I’m not sure whether much progress has been made.
And what’s more on the other side of the road a series of artistic panels brightening up an otherwise drab development hoarding at the former Frontier Land. I now remember Eunice from the Mouse House mentioning them 
Down on the River Wyre in St. Michael’s a tragic drama is transpiring, a 45-year-old local lady, Nicola Bulley, has gone missing whilst walking her dog by the river. You will have seen it on the national news, the trauma her family are going through as the days pass, without resolution, doesn’t bear thinking about.
The place, the time, the circumstances.
On the marsh shore are a couple of anchors caught up in a trawl net by a fishing boat in the 1980s. The larger one is of the type lost from the Mexico. The other dates back to the late C18th used by warships from the time of Admiral Nelson.
